Pain
by Ruby Rosetta Red
Summary: Pain. It affects us all. Even Clark Kent. This is the first of three stories about the pain that affects Clark's life. Set around the first three episodes of Season Three. Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Pain.**

He sauntered along the street as though he owned it. He attracted attention and he revelled in it. A whole new world was opening up for him; one he'd never thought he'd see. He embraced it whole-heartedly and without guilt. He kept thoughts of those he'd left behind at bay by doing what he wanted; it helped to mask the pain.

The blonde was definitely interested in him; she'd made her intentions clear from the moment he'd paid for the Ferrari in cold hard cash. The cash wasn't his, but he'd gotten it anyway. It had given him a thrill that girls fell at his feet, begged for his attention, wanted him. But in his mind's eye all he could see was long dark brown hair and almond shaped green eyes staring up at him beseechingly. The twinge of weakness annoyed him but she was there all the same, like a ghost.

The blonde hadn't liked the attitude and said so but it didn't matter to him. He just didn't care, he didn't want to care. Everything was his for the taking, if he wanted it bad enough and he wanted it passionately. One phrase existed for him, echoing in his brain like a mantra _'What I want I will take. What I want, I will have_," It wasn't like anyone could stop him.

Burning hot pain, it ripped viciously through his bloodstream and he gasped at the power of it. He glanced around, wondering if anyone had noticed but nobody had. A second pulse of pain almost brought him to his knees and it was all he could do to hold in the cry that had threatened to burst out of him. He glanced down at his hand, to see the red kryptonite class ring glowing brightly. He wouldn't bend to Jor-El's will, so this was how he'd punish him? Another bolt of pain made him grunt and seek some sort of sanctuary. Ahead of him was a vacant telephone booth. He headed towards it.

He staggered into it, almost tipping it over as a fresh wave of agony rushed through him. His skin was bubbling hot, he could feel the burn searing through his shirt. Tears were crowding the back of his eyes as he scrabbled at the buttons, tearing them open impatiently, anything to get the throbbing to stop. He tried to breathe; the heat seemed to be centred inside of him, cutting off his air supply. He dragged oxygen into his straining lungs then looked down and saw the insignia burned into his chest glowing white-hot and he looked at his hand, to see the ring glowing with the same intensity. He wrenched it off and it was as though someone had switched off a tap. His legs gave out and he fell to the ground. The booth staggered drunkenly but he was too lost to notice. He looked up, at the telephone receiver. Home. He could always phone his mom. He knew she'd be out of her mind with worry right now. He could always call her and let her know he was safe. Then she wouldn't worry so much. He got to his feet, picked up the receiver and with slightly shaking hands fed in the right amount of change to make the call. He took a deep breath and punched in the number. It rang for a few seconds before someone replied. His spine stiffened when he heard her speak. His heart began to race, wanting to embrace the comfort of that familiar voice.He heardher whisper his name and a lump rose in his throat, threatening to choke him, enough to stop any coherent words from slipping out._'Mama',_ he wanted to whisper, _'Mama, i'm here'_. But the words just wouldn't come. Instead he slammed down the receiver and leaned against it, swallowing against the tears that threatened to escape. He took a deep breath and straightened up, staring resolutely straight ahead. Then he looked down at his hand and uncurled his fist where the ring still was. He stared at it, craving the amnesia that it gave him. Without another thought, he slipped it back on, felt the red fire roaring hungrily through his veins. The pain melted away and he closed his eyes, embracing the emotions that cloaked him once again. He opened his eyes, his dry eyes and smiled to himself and pushed his way out of the phone booth. He bumped shoulders against someone, he didn't know who.

"Hey, watch where you're going!" the voice complained, a female voice and he glanced at her over one shoulder, seeing long brown hair streaked with blonde, a shapely figure in tight denim and a singlet top. He briefly thought about charming her, flashing her that smile the girls loved so much but decided against it. He was tired, it was time for bed.


	2. Aftermath

**Aftermath.**

The ring was destroyed now and Clark Kent was back. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. Everything he felt now was raw, uncompromising. He had nothing to hide behind. It hurt and for someone who was supposed to be immune from physical pain, that was saying something. He paused by the door and glanced at his father, every ounce of uncertainty showing in his eyes. He didn't know what his reception would be. Would she be happy to see him? Would she scream at him for leaving the way that he had? He didn't think he'd be able to cope if she rejected him. Jonathan put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. It was meant to reassure but it didn't. He was scared of a tiny dynamo of a woman with fiery red hair and kind green eyes. She had the propensity to bring him to his knees with just one look, a carefully spoken phrase, a smile even.

"Go on" Jonathan whispered and Clark took a deep breath and turned the handle.

She turned as the door opened. Since Jonathan had left to get Clark she'd been restless, hovering beside the phone, scared to let it out of her sight. How would Jonathan get him back, they both knew he wasn't a match for his strength and under red kryptonite she knew he wouldn't listen to his father. She'd heard nothing and her worries went into overdrive. Her eyes widened when she saw him step hesitantly into the room. She flew towards him, throwing her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.

"Clark! You're safe, thank God you're safe!" she whispered and for a second Clark was stunned. He then wrapped his arms around his mother and held her close. Then he briefly closed his eyes, letting the relief flood through.

He felt on edge, restless as if waiting for something but he wasn't sure what. He sat at the kitchen table, idly tapping his fingers on the worn surface. He was back in Smallville, what next? He didn't know what to do, who to see. Restless energy made him get to his feet and leave the room, get outside. He stood on the porch and stared sightlessly across the land. He took a deep breath and sighed it out, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"Clark?" he turned at the soft-spoken voice and saw his mom standing in the doorway, looking hesitantly at him.

"Don't worry mom, I'm not going to run again," he told her. At least not for now. He heard the squeak of the door as she let it drift closed and she came to stand beside him.

"What's wrong?" she asked, still keeping her voice low. Clark glanced at her.

"Nothing. I'm still getting used to being here again" Still getting used to the silence, being able to see the stars glitter in the sky instead of being greeted by a haze of smog and pollution.

"It's got to be hard coming back here" After everything that had happened, those words went unsaid. It was and then again it wasn't. It was hard facing his mom after everything that had happened three months before and yet it was easy stepping back into the bosom of his family, feeling his parents' love. He turned and looked at his mother.

"I'm so sorry mom," he told her, his voice rushing out of him. Martha just looked at him, a puzzled frown on her face.

"Sorry for what?" her reply momentarily stunned him. Sorry for what? What the heck kind of answer was that?

"The baby" he whispered, his eyes drifting down to her flat stomach. If it weren't for him, that baby wouldn't be far from being born. Regret shafted through him. If it wasn't for him, his parents would have their ultimate heart's desire. His selfishness had erased all possible hope.

"Clark…it's not your fault, it was never your fault" she told him, she took a step towards him and looked up into his sorrowful blue-green eyes. He took a stumbling half step back.

"Yes it was. It was entirely my fault. I was too wrapped up in my self, I didn't think of the consequences. I never do. Maybe it would've been better if I'd just stayed away"

"Better for whom? You? Me? Your father? Clark Kent, we love you, that will never change"

"If it weren't for me you'd have all you ever wanted… a baby of your own" he frowned.

"A baby would have been a gift and a blessing, but we've already got all we ever wanted. We've got you," she told him. He looked at her. She saw the glimmer of tears in his eyes and then saw with amazing clarity the amount of pain that he was in.

"Sweetheart, don't blame yourself. Your father and I never have"

"But at the hospital, the way dad looked at me…" she went towards him. She took his hands and squeezed them.

"Your father was in shock Clark" Lord knew, they'd had three months to come to terms with what had happened. The Kents weren't the type to hold onto blame. Once the numbing unreality of it all had worn off, they'd come to understand that what Clark had done had been irresponsible, and yes, wrong, but he'd done it because he'd wanted to stay. He didn't want to bend to Jor-El's will and had done what he'd thought had been right at the time, with devastating unforeseen consequences. He looked at his mother, wanting badly to believe her words. She squeezed his hands again.

"Would your father have gone to Metropolis if he didn't love you? Would he have brought you back here?" her voice was barely above a whisper. She took a step towards him, into his embrace and she wrapped her arms around him.

"You are our son Clark Kent and we love you no matter what" she told him, resting her head beneath his chin. He closed his eyes and allowed himself the moment to believe.


	3. Healing

**Healing: **

Pete stood in the doorway and blinked.

"Well of all the people to show up on my doorstep... When did you get back?" Clark shifted uncomfortably, shoulders hunched up, hands jammed into the front pocket of his jeans.

"Yesterday" he replied.

"So what are you doing here?" Clark looked up at Pete's abrupt tone.

"I came to see you, to talk to you," he explained. Pete folded his arms across his chest and regarded the guy who'd been his best friend since kindergarten, the guy who trusted him enough to tell him his absolute deepest darkest secret and boy had it been a doozie!

"Talk to me? Hell Clark it's been three months man! Three months and not a word from you, if I wanted to check in on you all I had to do was open the front page of the Daily Planet and there you were!" Clark felt his cheeks flame as embarrassment flooded through him. Pete was right, he was absolutely right.

"I know you have every right to be angry with me" He stuttered and paused when he saw Pete take a step towards him, closing the porch door behind him. His dark brown eyes weren't just angry, they were furious.

"You are my best friend Clark and you took off for Metropolis without an explanation. Why? What the hell happened to make you go off the rails so completely like that?" he hissed. Clark took a half step backwards and stared at his feet.

"I did something that was really unforgivable and I panicked, I just ran" he sneaked a glance back up at Pete.

"What? What did you do?" Clark sighed. He shook his head and turned and began to walk down the steps. He turned to see Pete standing on the top step, just watching him.

"Remember when I destroyed the ship? Do you remember what happened?" Pete nodded.

"I remember" Clark sighed again, more shakily. A huge lump rose in his throat and he had to swallow several times to get around it. He heard Pete thump down the wooden steps and was aware of him standing beside him, waiting for him to continue.

"My mom and dad were returning from Lex's wedding. They got caught up in the blast from the explosion"

"I know that" Clark made himself look at him, and Pete frowned at the anguished expression in his friends' eyes.

"My mom was pregnant Pete" Silence stretched out between them as Pete took in this information.

"She lost the baby. The one thing they wanted more than anything and it was my fault. My dad looked at me in the hospital like he hated me, so I did them a favour and took off" Pete watched Clark tell him this. Saw the brightness in his eyes, heard the ache in his voice.

"And that's why you went to Metropolis?" Clark looked at him and just nodded.

"Lived my own life the way I thought I wanted to. And for a while it was fun"

"Robbing banks and taking on the Metropolis SWAT team, yeah, I can imagine that could be a blast" Pete retorted cynically and inwardly Clark winced.

"Yeah, well I learned my lesson"

"Red kryptonite taught you a valuable lesson Clark, the longer you're on it, the worse you get" Clark didn't need to hear it again after his father had already informed him of the fact. Plus he knew for himself just how bad he could get. And he would only admit to himself just how much he liked its power, the way it pummelled his conscience to the point of non-existence. Clark looked Pete straight in the eye.

"I know that. I need to know something Pete and you can tell me to go to hell if you want to" Pete didn't reply straight away. Clark took another deep breath.

"I need to know that you're still my friend" Silence stretched out between them, like elastic becoming thin and painful. Pete huffed out a breath.

"The fact that you have to even ask me that insults me Clark. Of course I'm still your friend, through good and bad, thick and thin or whatever, I've always got your back" he cuffed Clark's shoulder and for the first time Clark allowed himself to smile. The smile abruptly vanished as he looked at Pete.

"It means a lot to me to hear you say that. I haven't been the best of friends to you in the past" Spending time with Lex rather than Pete when it was Pete he'd entrusted with his secret, a secret he hadn't dared share with the son of Lionel Luthor. He'd told Lex that he trusted him but deep, deep within his heart there had been that shadowy element of not being entirely sure what had made Lex tick or how he would've reacted to the information that Clark Kent was more than he appeared to be. Several times Clark had wondered exactly how much Lex had known, but if he'd suspected anything, he'd kept that information closely guarded. Beside him Pete shrugged.

"Same here. I guess that makes us even now, huh?" Clark glanced at him.

"I guess it does"

**END**


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